Page:Poems, now first collected, Stedman, 1897.djvu/58

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EVENTIDE

The sunset fires old Portsmouth spires,
Out creeps the ebbing tide;
Beyond the battery-point I see
A glimmering schooner glide;
White flares the turning Whale-back light,
The silent ground-swell rolls;
Low and afar shines one red star
Above the Isles of Shoals.

1888

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